


ash on my jeans, blood in my mouth

by gentlemanofquality, NewtTaylor (gentlemanofquality)



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen, please read the final chapter. ive come a long way since i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlemanofquality/pseuds/gentlemanofquality, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlemanofquality/pseuds/NewtTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As of 2016 I really don't want to take this fic to where I wanted as an 18-21 year old. If you skipped this fic because of the former tags, thank you for not encouraging the internalized abuse apologism I'm only now working to fight against.  I'm leaving an edit of this fic online with a final chapter retrospective but i am not finishing it. What this fic would have become if I had finished as intended would have been ugly and awful. I'm glad I never finished. Have a good one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Landing in Oakland (Chapter Zero)

Everett Young is 23 and has just landed at Oakland International Airport. He walks out in to the sunlight and throws a hand over his eyes, looking for his brother’s Ford Taurus. As he waits on the curb, he shoulders his duffel and shifts his weight, legs sore from sitting still for so long. Aside from his duffel, all he has with him is the clothes on his back, nothing else. He doesn’t need anything else - the military does that to you. He’s got two years off of active duty ahead of him, and he’s not sure how he’s going to fill it beyond the classes he’s signed up for at UC Berkeley. He’s looking forward to seeing his brother again, of course, and meeting his wife and their baby son, but he’s also hoping to get his own place as soon as possible. He’s not exactly a social person. More than anything he just wants some peace and quiet.

The white sedan pulls up in front of him and he is shaken from his reverie as his brother hits the steering wheel and honks at him. His wife, a pretty young woman with short black hair, grins and waves from the passenger seat. Emanating from the back of the car he can hear the cries of a colicky baby.

“Welcome to Oakland, little brother!”

Everett sighs and forces out a grin that he means but doesn’t want to have to show.

“Great to see you – and Josh too! Wow!” He opens the door of the car and ducks inside, putting his duffel by his feet and looking right into the little red face of baby Joshua, his nephew, strapped in a large carseat and holding a slobbery circus animal cracker in one chubby pink hand. “Isn’t he a little rascal?”

“I’m sorry we were late, I had to pull over to nurse,” his brother’s wife says as her brother-in-law slams the door, smiling apologetically and gesturing between her chest and her son in case Everett didn’t know what she meant.

His brother, half-jokingly, says: “Christ, don’t tell him stuff like that, Alisha! He’ll be scarred for life!”

“It’s _natural_ ,” Alisha admonishes. Her husband begins driving, focusing on the airport traffic rather than their conversation.

Everett clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s no problem. My plane wasn’t on schedule either, so it all worked out,”

“It’s so great to finally meet you!”

“You too. He talks about you in all of his letters…”

They continue to make small talk all the way home.

-

Within a month, Everett has moved out. He’s found a tiny apartment only about eight miles away from the university and planned out the bus routes to get there, so distance isn’t a problem. Alisha and Josh are very upset when he leaves, even though he promises to visit when he’s settled in, but his brother just claps him on the back as his new landlord hands over his keys. The Young brothers have never been much for displays of affection.

In terms of furnishings, Everett has a futon with two pairs of white sheets, a stove and minimal kitchen supplies, an icebox, a small set of shelves Alisha forced on him, and a safe where he keeps his gun. The apartment is clean and sparse, just how he likes it. He finds a drug store within walking distance and buys his basic necessities there, making sure to budget his money evenly so he won’t be having any financial problems.

He takes the bus to campus the week before classes start and gets his bearings. The university is extremely large, making him feel anonymous and safe. As he shields his eyes from the sun and watches the excited young adults dart from building to building and the older, tired looking faculty carry papers and folders in briefcases and within creased-sleeved arms, he thinks that maybe the next two years will be more pleasant than he’d assumed. They won't be.

 


	2. First Impressions

On the third day of his Mathematics for nonmajors class, the professor assigns something due over the weekend. When a student asks how to get it to him, he reminds them sardonically that his home fax number is on the course syllabus, if they would’ve cared to actually read it. Several students rummage in their bags to find the packet they’d been given on the first day to confirm this fact. Everett doesn’t bother.

Instead, he goes up to his professor after class, holding his assignment out with a concerned expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Professor Rush? I don't have a fax machine at my apartment,"

The older man sighs in irritation. "Fine, get it to me in person before class on Thursday then," His biting Scottish tones grate on Young's nerves, and he bites the inside of his cheek in frustration. It isn’t his fault he’s technologically challenged, after all. "You know where my office is, don't you?"

Everett nods. "Will you be here tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, yes. You can go," Rush waves his hand, peering over his glasses at his student intently for a few seconds. Then his gaze falls back to his desk, studying the homework he's grading. "Go! I have another class in twenty minutes!"

Everett grinds his teeth, but closes his eyes and forces out a smile. "I'll have this in your office tomorrow by sixteen - by four,"

Rush doesn't say anything; he's already lost interest in the concerns of his students and is absorbed in slashing his red pen through proofs and boxed-in answers.

Everett about-faces and walks out of the lecture hall furiously.

-

He’s walking out of the mathematics building, thankful that the Rush hadn’t wanted to engage him in conversation and had just taken the pages of carefully filled-in graphs and waved him out if his office, when he almost walks into a short blond girl carrying a pile of textbooks. Her high ponytail is escaping from her scrunchie and the top two buttons of her oversized shirt are misdone; she looks harried and stressed. In her surprise at almost being run down she drops the textbooks.

“Oh no…” she moans, crouching to begin picking them up.

Everett crouches too. “Let me, it was my fault,” He gets the rest of the books into his arms then stands up along with the girl, who’s looking at him gratefully. He glances at the title of the book on top of the stack.

“Human anatomy, huh?”

She blushes. “Uh, yeah. I’m premed. Well, sort of, anyway. I’m only a freshman,”

“Let me carry these for you. Where are you headed?”

“No, it’s fine, I can-” He stares at her, frowning. Seeing that he won’t budge, she ducks her head, then smiles thankfully. “I live in Stern. The all-girls’ dorm?” She points the direction and they start walking. “It’s really nice of you to do this, you don’t even know me!’ she says brightly.

Everett glances at her. “Are you sure? You look really familiar,”

“Um… Pchem?” He shakes his head. “Oh! You sit a few rows behind me in math!”

Everett nods. “I knew I recognized you,”

“I’m Tamara – _please_ call me TJ though. Everyone does,”

“Everett. I’d shake your hand, but-” he jerks his chin at the pile of books.

She giggles. “So are all these for class or…?”

“No…” She shrugs. “I just thought I might as well start studying early!”

“Makes enough sense, I guess,”

“What’s your major? You must be graduating soon, right? You’re clearly not a freshman,” She is firing questions at him, but not in a way that indicates that she doesn’t want to hear the answers. She seems genuinely engaged. Everett finds himself smiling back at her. She’s pretty, smart, and clearly isn’t afraid to get to know someone. He likes her.

“I’m not _technically_ a freshman, no. I’m off active duty from the armed services. Air Force, actually. So I don’t have a major, and I’m not graduating this year,” He adjusts the books, stopping for a moment to make sure none topple.

“Wow! Military! Cool… I’ve been considering joining, actually,”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? You?”

She smiles in false rebuke. “Hey! Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t fight!”

“We always need medical officers!” he replied, in a joshing tone but with sincere intents.

They reach the door to her dorm, and there’s an awkward moment where they’re not sure whether Everett should follow her in or not. They do that strange dance where Everett starts handing the books to TJ right as she reaches to unlock the door, then they both pull back, over and over.

Finally TJ clears her throat, embarrassed, and says: “I can take them from here. Thanks a bunch, Everett,” Acquiescing to her decision, Everett hands her the books and holds the door open for her.

“I’ll see you in class on Monday!” she shouts over her shoulder as the door closes.

He waves, even though she can’t see him. “See you later, TJ,”


	3. Camille and David

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett develops a routine, which is disrupted.  
> He then adapts his routine.

It’s been years since Everett was in school, but not much has changed. He gets up and showers, using his one bar of soap to get clean and wake himself up. He takes the bus, reading a battered old copy of _The Odyssey_ he’s gotten used from the student bookstore for his classical literature class. He was supposed to read it in high school but had never done it. He’s regretting that now, because the story is fascinating. His upright, closed off posture and air of militaristic confidence means that he can read without being bothered, and his mind drifts off, imagining the heady scent of the island of the Lotus-Eaters, the reverberating steps and anguished wails of the Cyclops, the simultaneous allure and repugnance of the Sirens…

When the bus stops by campus, Everett steps out into the sunlight and tucks the book into the tattered briefcase his brother gave him. Back in the real world, the breeze stirs the trees and blows dust in his eyes, there are no gods, ancient heroes, or slaughtered suitors; there’s just a history course with a aging professor more than reasonably enthusiastic about the Russian Revolution.

He’s taking four classes: classical literature, world civ, biology, and math for nonmajors. They’re all interesting, sure, and he’s enjoying them enough. World civ is just as boring as all his history classes in high school with the addition of longer essays and more sex. He blazes through the busy work and studies diligently. He learns, he reads, he writes, he dissects a cat.

He goes about a month without really getting to know anyone except the pre-med, TJ, and their relationship only extends to smiles in passing and partnering up to graph parametric equations. TJ’s handwriting is small and neat, but nevertheless almost illegible to Everett. Their professor, who Everett still dislikes and who he’s pretty sure doesn’t even look at half of the assignments he grades, also has a strongly inclined scrawl, all in cursive and in UK spelling (center as centre, etc).

TJ has a pen that writes in five different colors and she’s very proud of it. Everett can’t help but grin when she twists the top of the pen to red to blue to black, her hands shifting without really noticing it. Professor Rush responds to the muted clicks with frequent glares during lecture. The rest of the class murmurs to each other one day when Rush actually snaps at her during class. She covers her face, gone red, and Everett sees tears in the corners of her eyes. But she doesn’t cry, and soon she’s back to clicking that pen.

Everett tends to write in all caps and owns one pen. Professor Rush doesn’t call on him. He may as well not know he exists. Just another B student in a class of B students.

At the end of his first month at school, a woman in his world civ class asks him if he’s Everett Young. Surprised, he nods.

“How do you know my name?” he asks, sliding his textbook out of his briefcase.

“TJ told me about you. We have pysch together. She says you help her with her math,”

“True…” Everett tries not to frown too noticeably. He’s not averse to small talk, but he’s a naturally suspicious man.

TJ’s friend notices his discomfort and smiles reassuringly, putting her hand out to shake. “My name’s Camille. I have a proposition for you,”

“Uh… go on…” He shakes her hand.

Her proposition, apparently, involves getting lunch with her and TJ in the cafeteria after class. Everett gets a ham and cheese sandwich and eats it slowly as TJ and Camille laugh about something that happened in psych earlier that day. After about fifteen minutes, Camille finally gets to the point.

“A study group?” Everett coughs into his palm. TJ offers her plastic cup of water, but Everett shakes his head.

Camille nods, swallowing a bite of lettuce. “I’ve got another guy who wants to join; he’s in another period of your math class and takes psych with TJ and I,”

“That’s everyone?”

“That’s everyone,” She sips her diet coke.

Camille dresses professionally, in a black turtleneck and a corduroy blazer. Her wavy black hair is cropped short, the ends slightly unruly. She carries a sleek black purse and wears dark colored slacks. Despite how she dresses, her face is open and smiling, the corners of her mouth creasing easily, her eyes mirthful. As the get to know each other, Everett finds out that she’s a sophomore, a psychology major, and a lesbian. This is a bit of a surprise to him, and he does his best to not think about it and to treat her the same as he would if she were straight. Soon, he can do this without difficulty. TJ is clearly spellbound by Camille. She hangs on her every word, tries to mimic the way she sits, the way she dresses. Camille is just as fond of TJ as Everett has become.

The fourth member of their ramshackle study group is named David. He’s a sophomore too, and the first time they meet all he talks to Everett about is Everett’s military career, as it seems he’s a bit of a buff. But soon they get to know each other too, and Everett finds that David is also a baseball fan, likes psychology but hates psychologists (Camille rolls her eyes), and wants to join the Air Force when he graduates.

Their study group is less of a Study Group and more of a We-Should-Study Group, but it’s Everett’s one social outlet and, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s really good for him.

They meet every afternoon and study. More often than not, he, David, and TJ will work on whatever diabolical problems Rush has assigned for the day while Camille works on her sociology research, then David, TJ, and Camille work on brain chemistry or Pavlov or whatever psychology is about, as Everett slowly works his way through _The Odyssey_.

All this takes three to four hours, after which Everett leaves the younger students on-campus and takes the six-thirty bus home, eats a small dinner of pasta or beans or peanut butter sandwiches, finishes his work for the next day, and crashes onto his futon.

This goes on for two more months.


	4. Increase in Tension

Midterms come faster than Everett expected they would, and it sends him into a muted panic for a couple days, before he gets it together and buckles down.

He’s been utterly lost in world civ for about two weeks, and Camille is at a loss to explain the mores of pre-revolutionary Chinese agricultural practices to him. He can understand military maneuvers and political machinations with little to no difficulty, and he’s extremely adept at memorizing names and dates. He even writes a paper on the Bolshevik Revolution, with Camille pitching in relatively useless tidbits about Rasputin every once and a while. But social issues? The development of agriculture and technology? _Steppes_? No way in hell is he going to understand that without a lot of explanation.

The study group spends almost seven hours on the Sunday before finals together, eating Mexican food and quizzing each other on reinforcement vs. punishment, sine vs. cosine, free market vs a traditional economy. Everett retells the story of Circe to David while Camille helps TJ with her PChem (a class Everett thanks God he doesn’t have to take and certainly never plans to), and David reiterates to TJ and Everett the method used to calculate the derivative of a function. TJ has the hardest time with basic calculus out of the three of them; Everett tries his best and has an extremely basic grasp of the concepts.

Biology, his easiest class, is also his first midterm. He breezes through the multiple choice questions as well as the short answers, and the only thing he forgets is the specific differences between mitosis and meiosis. This is a promising start, but he doesn’t let himself get cocky.

The next day he and TJ meet up for breakfast before Professor Rush’s reportedly grueling test.

“I’m really nervous, Everett…” TJ says, spreading peanut butter on her wheat toast and pulling her wavy bangs out of her eyes. “I _can’t_ fail this test… I’m already doing really poorly in PChem and Rush has given me three Fs in the past month. If my GPA gets any lower they’re going to put me on academic alert…” She’s got a brave face on, but Everett can see the lines deepen at the corners of her mouth and the outsides of her eyes.

“You’ll do great,” he reassures her. “We studied all yesterday for this, you got this!” He puts a hand on her upper arm for a moment, squeezing it through her lucky red turtleneck.

“If I don’t pass this test, Everett…” She puts down the toast and puts a hand to her mouth, briefly biting down on a nail before nervously picking up the toast again. “I don’t know if my parents will let me stay. They’re always saying I’m too young for college, and I’m starting to believe them,”

“Hey, they say I’m too old for college!” he replies jokingly, though of course nobody does.

TJ doesn’t let him BS her. “Nobody says that, Everett…” she admonishes, frowning so determinately it turns into a smile. After a moment of quiet camaraderie, she glances at her watch. “I think we’d better go,”

It takes both Everett and TJ the full time allotted to complete the exam, and they leave the math building tired but with a sense of achievement. David, who has the class a few hours earlier than them, meets them outside.

“Hell of a test, wasn’t it? I think Rush is determined to give us all ulcers by the end of the semester. I didn’t even know what half of those problems meant! Did we even learn about the unit circle?”

Everett glances at TJ. “Let’s not talk about it, huh David?”

“Yeah alright,”

Later that day, he turns in his paper on _The Odyssey_. It’s about how Homer treats war and its repercussions. He’s not very happy with it, especially since he liked the book so much and he does have some experience with war after all, but it’s good enough. He’s actually got it in early.

Wednesday, world civ goes as well as can be expected. Camille finishes well before him, but she waits outside for him to finish, which makes him unexpectedly happy. It’s at this point that Everett realizes that he actually has friends, and in a fit of good will he asks if Camille knows anywhere the group can go out to celebrate.

“Sure do,” she replies. “But I don’t know if you’d like it very much,”

“What do you mean?”

Camille grins, shouldering her bag as they separate, her to her dorm, him to the bus stop. “You’ll see! We’ll meet you tonight. Dress nice!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot!!!!


	5. Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for homophobia, underage drinking (under 21, over 18).

Unsure of the etiquette in these situations, Everett doesn’t change his clothes, though he does put on a jacket in case they end up walking anywhere. It’s around eight pm when he gets a knock on his door, and he opens it to reveal Camille and David, the former dressed in dark colors: a black turtleneck and knee-length skirt with a brightly contrasting red chunky necklace and brown leggings, and the latter in light blue jeans and a white t-shirt. They greet Everett in unison with wide smiles and chipper waves.

“You ready, man?” David looks like he’s already had a couple beers; his shirt is untucked and his eyes are slightly hazy. But he doesn’t seem incapacitated. From previous conversations, Everett has gathered that David can more than hold his liquor.

“He’s as ready as he’s going to be,” Camille says, and she grabs Everett by the elbow and drags him out the door.

They wait at his bus stop for a few minutes before Everett thinks to ask: “Where… exactly… are we going?” Camille just smiles, which makes Everett extremely nervous.

David says: “We’re going to a bar, where do you think?” Everett accepts this. The bus slows to a stop with a squeak of brakes. Everett moves to get on it, but David stops him with a hand on his chest. “Hey, slow down, compadre!”

Everett relaxes, then looks back at the bus to see TJ step out, looking nervous but excited – and _wow_. His mouth drops open.

TJ’s hair is up and styled somehow so it curls in light, fluffy tendrils all around her face. She’s got more make-up on than she usually does, but it’s tasteful, fashionable. She’s wearing a loose, light teal top, her shoulders gleaming pale in the light of the streetlamps and the fluorescent bulbs in the bus. The bus door rattles closed and it drives off, and TJ stands lit under a single streetlamp, big pale eyes wide and freckled cheeks pink.

“Uh… Everett? You’re staring,” David elbows him and Everett clears his throat, looking away too quickly.

“Hey guys…” TJ brushes her hair out of her eyes shyly.

“Evening, TJ. You’re looking great!” Camille’s eyes dart between TJ and Everett and she raises her eyebrows. She seems to want to try to break the awkward stillness that seems to have descended. “You ready to have some fun, hon?”

She nods, clutching at her purse.

“Then let’s get going,”

The three of them begin walking down the street, in the same direction the bus went. Everett sighs and walks after them, finally losing patience. “ _Where_ are we going?”

TJ frowns. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I thought it might be best to spring it on him on site… You know how he can get about… stuff like this,”

“Stuff like _what_?”

The bar is only about eight blocks away from his apartment. The neon sign says _White Horse_ , and there’s the faint booming of music that can be heard from about half a block away. TJ looks nervous, but Camille puts on her most confident smile and nudges her, muttering something encouraging in her ear. They enter the building to the sounds of some pop song Everett doesn’t know, and Camille drags them to a free table, where she leaves them, presumably to get drinks. The bar is clearly pretty old, with lots of black and white pictures on the walls. There’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting the multicolored lights in arcs across the faces of the dancers, the drinkers, the patrons in casual conversation.

The bar is not very crowded, and there don’t seem to be very many students there. The music is loud, but not unreasonably so. Everett doesn’t understand why Camille would think that he’d have something against this place – until he notices an odd phenomenon among the couples on the dance floor. Women are dancing with women, and men with men. As his eyes rake the bar, he realizes that a middle-aged man in a purple and black striped shirt is smiling at him the way he used to smile at pretty girls in high school.

“David – is this a _gay club_?”

David laughs, looking slightly guilty. “We weren’t sure if you’d be comfortable coming, so we didn’t tell you. Camille said you were weird for a while after she came out to you, and, well,” he shrugs, pulling a face. “You are military, y’know,”

Everett frowns. “I do know, yeah,”

Camille returns with three beers and some brightly colored blue thing with both a paper umbrella and a swizzle stick in it, which Everett assumes is for TJ. She immediately picks up on the shift in mood at the table. “Uh oh, looks like someone figured it out!” she quips; trying, as always, to keep tension from rising. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know another bar not too far-”

“No, it’s fine!”

It’s not exactly fine, but Everett doesn’t want to offend anyone. He takes his beer and nurses it, as does Camille. David downs the bottle in about a minute and looks pointedly at Everett, who rolls his eyes but gets up to get him another. TJ sips her drink tentatively. After some prodding from a curious Camille, she reveals that she’s never had alcohol before.

“I mean, I tried beer once. My dad let me. But I didn’t like it,” She plays with the little umbrella before taking another sip and continuing to speak over the rim of the glass: “This is really good though! Sweet, like fruit juice!”

Everett can’t help but smile at her innocent grin as she grows more and more intoxicated.

David is on his third beer and Camille is dancing with a short redhead when TJ leans in towards Everett, almost toppling off her stool, and mutters: “Is that Rush?” into his ear.

For a few seconds Everett is more concerned with the feeling of TJ’s sweet warm breath raising the hair on the back of his neck, her glossy lips so near to his skin, that he doesn’t really comprehend what she’s actually said to him. But a moment later it hits him.

“Wait, _Professor_ Rush?” He turns quickly, trying to calm down his rising heartbeat – is it from TJ’s words or her actions, he isn’t sure – and spots the man almost immediately.

Rush is in a jeans jacket, sitting at the bar with a half-full pint glass in hand. He’s gazing absently into the mirrored walls but doesn’t seem to notice his students not far behind him. Outside of class, he looks different; he’s not wearing his glasses and his shaggy hair is falling over his eyes. He looks, as always, casually impertinent, but the effect is multiplied by his informal attire and the glaze of alcohol that softens his face, that even Everett can see so clearly in the mirror.

“Shit, it is him!” David must’ve caught on with the topic du jour. He is leaning on the table, absolutely smashed but apparently none the worse for it. “Who knew Rush was a-”

“David, don’t…” TJ interrupts, slurring slightly. “Not in _here_!”

David throws his hands out. “Hey, I’m not judging! I've kissed dudes!”

“Well well well, isn’t this interesting?” Camille has found them again. Her eyes are bright and she looks… happier than Everett has ever seen her. He gets a flash of something then, of understanding what it’s like to be _different_ , but then she starts talking again and he stops thinking about it. “Seems all sorts of secrets are coming out of the closet tonight!”

“No kidding,” David snorts.

TJ stage-whispers: “Rush is over there” and points him out overdramatically. She’s so clearly drunk that it’s endearing. Everett gets the urge to hold her hand but suppresses it.

Camille raises an eyebrow and glances at the bar. “Well what do you know…” She almost looks impressed.

“Do you think that means he’s… y’know…”

“Gay?” Camille finishes for her, smiling in what would be a wry manner were she sober. “Could be. I thought he was married, but I could be wrong. But anyway,” and here she gestures at Everett and TJ, “Clearly you don’t need to be gay to go to a gay bar – though it helps,” TJ giggles. Camille looks her over. “TJ, you are extremely drunk, aren’t you?”

“Sure am!” TJ chirps. Camille’s smile widens. She shakes her head.

“Come on, let’s dance. Sweat some of that alcohol out,”

She grabs TJ’s hand and pulls her onto the reasonably populated dance floor. David and Everett watch them go, both smiling warmly, feeling friendly from the alcohol rushing through their bloodstreams.

Everett is still watching the two women when David says: “You know, we could use this,”

The older man turns to the younger. “What?”

“Rush. I have a feeling he wouldn’t want word to get out that he was…” He makes a significant gesture. “If he knew we knew… we could use it,”

“What, like… blackmail?”

David shrugs, but his gaze is suddenly very serious. He finishes his most recent beer and sets it on the table, very firmly. “The man’s a prick. He doesn’t grade fair, and you know it. Careers can be ruined by shit like this. That’s all I’m saying,”

Everett grimaces, suddenly very uncomfortable. “I don’t think I could do that,”

They sit in silence for a couple minutes, and then David stands up. “I’m going to go dance. You okay alone?”

Everett nods, mind whirling.

A song passes, then another. Everett finishes his beer. David’s words keep repeating in his head.

 _Careers can be ruined by shit like this_.

He knows that much is true in the army, but what about in academia? He isn’t sure if anyone deserves a fate like that anyway.

As the next song, something that sounds like Queen, begins, Rush gets up, nods at the bartender, and walks towards the door, buttoning up his jacket.

Everett gets up and follows him.

Rush’s car is parked right around the corner. He gets to the driver’s side door and is unlocking it when Everett makes his presence known.

“Evening,”

Rush almost drops his keys. “Jesus! What the fuck?!” Everett steps into the glow of a streetlamp. “Who the hell are you then?”

“A student,” For some reason, Everett is upset to discover that Rush doesn’t know him by sight.

“Oh, wait. The Marine with no fax machine? Pen-girl’s boyfriend?” The other man snaps his fingers, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“It’s Air Force, actually,” Everett crosses his arms. He tries to ignore the boyfriend comment.

Rush rolls his eyes. Everett almost _hears_ the ‘whatever’ he’s thinking. The professor’s fingers drum on the roof of his car. “Well? What is it? I do need to get home at a reasonable hour, you know. Not all of us are _students_ ,” He says the word with such an air of contempt that Everett is honestly taken aback. “Some of us have actual _work_ to do!”

Everett scowls. He’s not really sure why he followed Rush out here, but _that_ comment, after all the preparing he and the others did for the week’s exams, sets him off. He hears David’s advice again, ringing in his ears. The alcohol burning in his throat makes him bolder, and he bites out: “Does the school know you’re gay?”

Rush’s hands freeze, and his face gets sharper, tighter. He’s pinning Everett with his gaze, his eyes glinting dangerously. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been drinking at a, uh, a gay bar. Seems you go there regularly, by the looks of things,” Everett stands straighter, using his best soldier’s posture. If he’s really going to blackmail someone, then he’s going to do it professionally.

Rush raises an eyebrow, still glaring at his student. Slowly, bitingly, he says: “It’s the only place near campus that serves halfway decent beer. Who I _fuck_ has nothing to do with it,”

Everett is slightly thrown by this. It hadn’t occurred to him that there might be reasons to go to a gay bar that don’t involve being gay or being tricked into going by your gay friends. Not to mention how forthright Rush is about the whole thing. He doesn’t let his surprise show, though. Instead, he refuses to back down. “The fact remains, you’re putting yourself in a pretty vulnerable position by coming here like this. If someone told… you could be out of the job!”

_Careers can be ruined_

_The man’s a prick_

“Tell who you like!” Rush goes back to unlocking his car. It seems to Everett that he’s made a misstep somehow, that the other man is no longer intimidated. As Rush opens his car door, he shoots one last derisive glance at his student. “I couldn’t care less!”

With that, Rush slams his door shut and drives away, his taillights momentarily blinding Everett.

Back inside the White Horse, he finds TJ and Camille at the table, chatting drunkenly about some band they both like. Camille is grinning broadly. TJ is winding her hair around her fingers and leaning on one elbow. Seeing the pair distracts Everett before he can really process what it is he’s just done.

TJ’s sweaty skin reflects the lights of the dance floor, making it look like she’s shining, like the taillights of Rush’s car.

She looks right into his eyes and he forgets about Rush completely.

The rest of the night is a blur. He dances with Camille, though he’s terrible at it, and then with TJ, who is just as bad as he is, at least when she’s drunk. The two of them end up in a corner of the dance floor, sort of wavering from side to side, hips attempting to keep some sort of rhythm. TJ is laughing, her arms around his shoulders. Her hair is escaping her hairtie and sticking to her sweaty forehead, floating up to dance in front of Everett’s unfocused eyes. He’s smiling, and he looks down into her face to say something about the music, but he meets her gaze and suddenly he can’t say anything at all.

She's drunk and out of it but looks so happy. And Everett's heart leaps in his chest.

“You’re done for the night. Camille is taking you home _right_ now,”

He finds David in a corner talking to a man about Everett's age. He finds Camille alone but with three different phone numbers. TJ staggers to her. The four of them leave together. They catch two different buses: Everett to his apartment and the other three to campus, where they all are currently living.

Everett stumbles upstairs and fumbles his door open. He gargles with mouthwash and pulls his pants off, and he falls into bed. He falls asleep immediately, and dreams of lights and paper umbrellas and curly hair twirling around a pink polished finger and two piercing eyes gone hazy in a mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im angry with myself for this chapter because i liked it a lot initially. im editing several plot points because 1) tj is so young... god. and 2) camille doesnt deserve this shit. but god everett u bastard.... T__T


	6. Lies

They don’t get Thursday or Friday off from class, unfortunately, but all of Everett’s professors seem to think that _they_ do, because he arrives at all four of his classes to find them either cancelled at the last minute or with the projector already set up for a movie that’s tangentially related to the class’ subject. The professors must be grading up a storm.

He finds Rush’s class _sans_ Rush but surrounded by angry yet relieved students and one TJ sitting outside the classroom, her head in her hands and her eyes shielded by comically large sunglasses.

“Do you want to get lunch?” he asks tentatively, kneeling down to her level. TJ winces. “Uh, sorry,” He lowers his voice.

TJ lowers her sunglasses and squints over the rims at him. There are dark circles under her eyes. She looks awful. “Sure…” she mumbles, not meeting his eyes for more than a second. Everett stands and offers her a hand, which she takes. They begin walking out of the math building and Everett awkwardly lets go of her hand. She doesn’t seem to notice.

They step into the sun and she makes a muted noise of pain and throws a hand over her sunglasses. Everett finds himself putting an arm over her shoulders, leading her to a shady spot and an empty bench.

They sit. Everett frowns in concern as TJ draws her knees to her chest, arms curled around her legs.

“Is everything okay?” he finally asks.

“Yeah…” she finally replies. "I feel weird about last night though... I barely remember it..."

"You did drink a lot."

"It didn't feel like a lot..." When he chuckles and mutters 'lightweight' affectionately, she frowns and hunches over more. "It's not funny... I'd never had so much alcohol before... You know I could have had alcohol poisoning? It's irresponsible..."

Everett frowns. "I guess you're right. It seemed like you were having fun though."

"I guess. I like hanging out with you guys... But it seems like David parties a lot... And I didn't know Camille went out too..." Shrugging, Everett lightly rubs TJ's back. She sighs. "I guess I just don't know if I want to do that again."

"Alright... yeah okay TJ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy edits here. i think what everett did in my original draft was truly despicable and evil. also i know im moralizing here but especially if ur under 25 pls dont binge drink its really dangerous...


	7. Engagement; détente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter. edits: what everett did was really homophobic and id like him to like.... realize that lol. especially if hes friends with Two LGBT And Known SJW Tamara Johansen. but anything with rush has to stay a lil fucked up... haha. ANYWAY can i retcon that rush is a TA? then its not really gross just unethical. ugh. stay tuned for a retrospective!!!

Over the weekend, Everett starts to dwell on the repercussions of his confrontation with Rush. He doesn’t try to hang out with the study group, choosing instead to worry, sitting in his spartan apartment and staring at the wall. Camille had taken him to the White Horse because she trusted that he wouldn't bash. What was more homophobic than blackmailing a teacher for being seen in the vicinity of a gay bar? It had been stupid. This could not only lose him his education, it could lose friends.

He thinks about David, chatting up the female bartender and a male patron. He thinks about Camille's giddy smile as a woman asked her to dance. Maybe he really isn't as progressive as he wants them to think. What had Rush done wrong? Had a drink?

The guilt gnaws at him like a slowly healing wound, scabbing over but itching constantly. He does this, it seems, constantly; this cycle of impulse decisions that just lead to him getting in trouble. He’d mouth off to superiors when he first entered the Air Force, and he was definitely one of those “loose cannon” soldiers, quick to lose his temper and almost too comfortable with the aggressive and masculine atmosphere surrounding the military culture. Thinking of the military's policy on gay soldiers, he thinks that maybe he's got a lot to learn.

He skips class Monday but feels an obligation to go Tuesday. TJ isn't there. Thinking of her depressed state on Friday, Everett grows concerned. As he’s dismissing the class, Rush calls his name and requests that he follow him to his office. Confused, but now more worried about TJ than about why Rush probably wanted to speak with him, he acquiesces.

He sits in the uncomfortable chair across the desk from the professor as Rush pulls his jacket off and tosses it over his briefcase. He sits abruptly and takes off his glasses.

“I need to ask you about your girlfriend: Ms Johansen,” the Scotsman says, without preamble. His twisted smile seems to indicate that he’s fully aware that the two of them aren’t actually dating; he just wants to get a rise out of his student.

Everett’s hands clench. He grits his teeth, a formless anxiety making his heartbeat speed up and his muscles contract. “What about her?”

“Well, she hasn’t been doing as well a job in class as is ideal-”

“What, you want me to tutor her?”

Rush lets out a contracted laugh. “Please! You’re hardly any better than she, don’t delude yourself. No, the problem,” and here he pauses, steepling his thin fingers and leaning forward, eyes glittering. Everett is already fuming, but he senses from Rush’s body language that the professor is only going to anger him more. “The problem is that she appears to have scored an 83 on the midterm – before the curve, mind you. And that seems more than a little suspect to me, given her track record.”

Everett’s jaw drops. A white-hot tension fills him. It feels like his blood has been replaced with molten metal. His vision blurs.

_What the hell was I feeling guilty for? Even Camille would have okayed blackmailing Rush!_

“I’d appreciate it if you passed on the message that I’m failing her for cheating. That’s all I need from you. I’m only talking to _you_ because _she_ wasn’t in class today. Feeling guilty, I expect. That’s all, you’re dism-”

Before he knows what’s happening, Everett has Rush by the collar and he’s slamming him against the wall behind his desk, the other man’s head hitting the plaster and his eyes shutting in pain. A framed diploma clatters to the ground.

“How _dare_ you say that about her?!”

He sinks a fist into Rush’s stomach. He lets the man go, letting him double over, letting him cough and breathe heavily into his hands. It’s easy to kick him while he’s on the floor, this time in the ribs, almost assuredly leaving a bruise. Rush rolls over, one arm thrown in front of his face and the other clutching his torso.

“You bastard!” Everett kicks him again.

“Fuck you!” Rush spits, trying to roll away from Everett’s boots. Everett growls in his throat and launches himself at the other man, subduing him immediately, getting his knees onto his arms and his hands tugging at his hair, getting Rush to look at him.

“Apologize!” he barks.

“No fucking way!” Rush jerks under him, trying unsuccessfully to escape. “Let go of me!”

Everett sits up and cracks his neck. Then he directs his fist straight at Rush’s jaw. His vision is swimming, hazy and red with fury, as he punches another time. His knees slip backward and Rush gets his arms free, finally pushing his student’s fists away from him, his legs flailing as they struggle to make meaningful, painful contact. Everett pulls back, stopping his onslaught in surprise as Rush manages to dig his nails into his upper arm, and this is enough give for Rush to struggle out from under him, landing a kick to the shoulder as he crawls away.

“Fuck!” Everett hisses, struggling to calm himself down.

Rush is gasping, eyes red and watering. But rather than responding to this assault with fear or anger, he just drags himself, slowly, to his desk and rummages in his briefcase. After a second of struggle, he pulls out a packet of cigarettes, puts one between his lips, and begins fishing in his pockets for a lighter, wincing as he brushes his wounds.

Everett is finally breathing normally when Rush lights his cigarette and draws in the smoke for a long moment.

“Got that out of your system?” he asks, finally. Everett stares at him disbelievingly. Rush’s lip is swollen and trickling burgundy blood onto the white collar of his shirt, he’s developing a black eye, and every move he makes seems to be hurting him, and yet there he is, smoking, taunting Everett – and _smiling_!

Everett restrains himself as he feels another wave of anger crash into him, making his limbs buzz with restrained energy and his ears ring. “For now,” he contents himself with saying. He’s kneeling on the ground, a dull pain pulsing from his injured shoulder, only a few feet from Rush. He could easily attack the older man again, but he’s in control now, or at least he’s in enough control to recognize that he’s already screwed up enough today, not to mention this last week. But he’s not done with Rush. “Change TJ’s grade back.” he demands.

Rush gives him an amused look –like _Everett_ is irrational – and responds: “Not a fucking chance!”

Everett grits his teeth and bites the inside of his cheek. “She didn’t cheat. She deserves the B!”

“I know she does! Clearly she worked hard.” Rush exhales with a contented sigh. “But do you honestly expect me to raise her grade after you assaulted me on her behalf?”

Everett is one smug smile from Rush away from flying into a rage, but he reigns it in, his higher processes having to acknowledge that Rush is right; he’s been incredibly stupid to do this. He sighs, rubbing his shoulder and sitting up straight with his legs crossed. “I’m… well, I’m not sorry. You deserve far worse than what I just did to you. But I do recognize that this was a... bad decision, and I’m sorry I did it,”

“And?” Rush lets the cigarette dangle between two fingers idly, looking for all the world like he’s just having a friendly chat.

Everett clenches his fists, but continues: “Is there anything I can do to get her the B?”

Rush lets out an arrogant laugh, almost pushing Everett over the edge of reason. “Well, now that you mention it, I am in need of a TA. My last one got an internship in Chicago a few weeks ago and I’ve been absolutely _buried_ in assignments since she left!”

“I’m not going to _work_ for you-”

Rush holds up the hand not holding the cigarette, his eyes narrowed cunningly, his slowly flowering shiner not diminishing their malice. “It would be _unfortunate_ if anyone was to find out that the upstanding soldier who’s always there to help his fellow classmates was only one bad grade away from attempted _murder_.”

Everett feels a chill go down his spine. “You wouldn’t,”

“I would,” Rush replies, using his sleeve to wipe away the blood drying on his chin. “And if you _ever_ touch me again, I _will_ ,”


	8. RETROSPECTIVE... PLEASE READ THIS....

hey everyone. this is me processing.

i conceived of this fic when i was ~18 i think? or 19. Then wrote it and published it from age 20-21. the central idea that inspired it was that i wanted to replicate the scene from priest where linus roach sees robert carlyle looking at him in the mirrors of the gay club (to the commenters who noticed, well done haha) and i wanted it to be rushyoung... and since rush is cute and 90s and jeans jacket in that i wanted a 90s fic!!! and i figured... hey lets put them in college.  
i was myself in college at the time and was figuring out that i was gay and trans... but i still had a lot of internalised issues. i still thought "messed up" ships were "complicated and messy and good" like.... theres a difference between being realistic and complex and like. "yeah we all screw up"... between that and abuse and pedophilia and rape culture theres such a gulf... but people who want to keep those things around push the idea that there really is not gulf and that "dark and edgy" (read: abusive) ships are better and more real than, i dont know... two consenting adults that dont manipulate or physically harm each other. (maybe i have to rethink rushyoung overall but thats not the point here).  
so i didnt see an issue with teacher/student (power imbalance and potentially age difference) or age difference at all... and that stuff matters! rush and young should NOT fuck or date in this canon. also their age difference is unclear which is pretty bad. its harmful.  
and finally i thought making young lie to an 18 year old TJ because he didnt want her to know hed kissed her.... would be Interesting or Complex or god forbid Good Shipping... thats shitty and despicable. 18 and 25 is a 7 year difference. imo if you're over 22 you shouldn't date someone under 20. the brain is still developing... and whats more TJ in this fic is clearly immature and young still gets a crush on her. i aged him down to 23 in my edit, which is still DEFINITELY too old but his feelings are also less strong and he doesnt try anything in this edit. (plus ageing him down makes the other main ship worse so there is NO winning with stuff like this)  
if i wanted to completely rewrite this fic, i would make rush a TA (everyones ages were based off both canon and the ages of the actors. its an au i shouldnt be limited by that stuff soooo...) and would have he and young fight BUT: young would never try to blackmail him and the fight would be less one sided and violent. TJ would not be a romantic interest. and young would textually fight his homophobia if he had any at all. 

but honestly i dont think this fic needs to exist. but unlike some of my other fic which ive outright deleted i want this to stay up in its edited form. as a reminder of where ive been and where i want to get to. and as a message for ppl who are where i was a few years ago. and finally in a general sense... to the whole world i guess... this is my apology for letting this stuff slide and perpetuating dangerous ways of thinking... and almost creating something really dangerous and evil. hopefully i can create work that will surpass this. and cause some good in the world.

thanks for reading and i am sorry.

heres to the future.


End file.
